“Alright Sam what kind of things are you good at? Let’s start there.”
Sam shrugs.
“What about…um childcare, huh?”
Sam shakes her head. “Nah I suck at babysitting,” she says in reply.
Joe spends a moment speechless before saying, “But you took care of your eight siblings for years.”
“Yeah but we mostly survived on a steady diet of candy and waffles.”

I used to dream of a dark phantom. Not a solid figure; sort of like a ghost, But more like a shadow. It felt like I was being watched all the time, someone always looking over my shoulder.
Now, the phantom has a face and hands that grab and pinch and choke. I wake unable to move; unable to breathe. It follows me, not just watching, but waiting. Scheming. Plotting.
The ghost of his fingers still haunt me.